Truth and Lies
by Miss Mila
Summary: An AU fic where Jenny DOESN’T die in JD. Join Jenny, quite alive, as she hides in Mexico and tries to deal with everything. Chapters are titled for famous Soaps, I don’t own them or NCIS.
1. Days of Our Lives

**The A/N: Okay, so this is my after Judgment Day fic, because I JUST saw it. And it made me cry. So, basically, I have decided that Reality can go meet a Window. Jenny wasn't dying with some illness, and in no way, shape or form is she dead. She is very much in fact alive. And she'll tell Gibbs eventually. Which will also happen in this fic. Hopefully. That's all for now. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the NCIS characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended. Only the plot and OCs are mine.**

* * *

_Things get better with time._

Lie.

_When one door opens, another closes._

Lie.

_I__ know how you feel._

Lie.

_I understand._

Lie.

_The truth will set you free._

They are all lies. Everything they say. Things _don't _get better with time, some doors always stay closed, NO ONE knows how it feels, and the truth sure as Hell will _not _set you free. Every situation is different. And I hated this one more than the others. I knew he was hearing them all right now. At this very moment. Lies that I was dead. Lies that he wouldn't see me again. Lies that it would get better later. Lies.

* * *

"Come on, Red. He'll figure it out." Mike Franks said as he sat down next to me. Angry tears were falling down my face. Tears I wasn't even sure why I was crying.

"Really Mike? Do you really believe that? Maybe this was his breaking point. He's already had to handle so much...what if he couldn't deal with this?"

"You sound like you don't know him." Mike replied, sobering up. "And he was convinced you knew him almost as much as Shannon."

"I _do _know him."

"Then you know he'll find you."

"And if he's mad?"

Mike shook his head. "And they say blondes are the stupid ones."

"I resent that, Franks."

"Give him some time."

I sighed. He was right. We both need some time. I need time to think things over...

* * *

_The men were dead and I was on the ground, bleeding. I heard Tony and Ziva run to my side, and Tony went to check my pulse. _

_"Tony..." I whispered, voice hoarse. _

_"Oh thank God, Director, you're alive." _

_"Ziva. Pocket. Number." _

_Ziva walked over to me, and found a slip of paper in my pocket. "I'll call them, Director." _

_"Hurry. You have to hurry before the cops get here." _

_It was a helicopter. A private one. A number given to me long ago by a friend. If I ever needed it. If I ever was in that much trouble. Trouble I couldn't get out of. _

_"Tony, Ziva. You can't let _anyone _know that I'm alive. Only Ducky. NO ONE else. Understood?" I asked as I was lifted onto the helicopter. _

_"Not even Gibbs? Or Abby?" _

_"No, Tony, NO ONE. For their safety, and mine. You don't want to put me at risk, do you?" _

_"We are sorry about this, Director. It's our fault." Ziva said as she looked at my bloody clothes. They both heard the unsaid "again" in my statement. It was intentional. Not to hurt them, but to make them listen. _

_"Ziva, you know what Gibbs says about apologies." I said as I was helped in. "And know that I'll tell Gibbs. When it's safe. Just try to keep him from beating himself up over this." _

_"Yes, Director." They both said as the door closed. _

_"We dodged a bullet there, Ziva." Tony said as the helicopter disappeared into the sky. _

_"I know, Tony. I know. Now we must keep Gibbs from putting another in us." _

_"Easier said then done." _

* * *

"Red, wake up, Red."

I looked up to see Mike Franks staring up at me, worried expression on his face. "Must you call me that?"

"What _do _you want me to call you? Freckles. 'Cuz I can do both. Now, are you okay? It looked like you were havin' a fit the way you were tossing and turning."

"I'm fine."

"Alright. I'm headed to the Cantina, care to join me?" He looked at the blank stare on my face. "Probie taught you that one. Alright, don't bother to lock up. Folks 'round here keep to themselves."

"Bye Mike."

I watched him walk off on the beach and I couldn't help but think about his words. Yes, Gibbs had taught me that look. He's taught me a lot of things (bourbon, coffee, stares...not things I came up with on my own). And I'm repaying him by letting him think I'm dead.

This whole 'pretend-your-dead-thing' really wasn't working well. At all. On one hand, here I was in Mexico having nightmares and beating myself up on the fact that the man I love thinks I'm dead. On the other hand, Gibbs is in Washington _thinking _I'm dead. Beating himself up on the fact that I "died" protecting him.

Whoa. I said (thought, whatever) "loved" didn't I?

Go figure. I did.

I guess the question of the moment is why I'm here, hiding, in Mexico. The answer is...not simple. First of all, all the men that were hunting us are finally dead. But there may be...post-battle things that we don't want going on. Secondly, the press all thinks my house burned down (yes, I watched the news), and they think I'm dead. They had a funeral for me. Which means that it'll be a while before we can declare my death an "undercover" thing. And that will make many people mad.

I know that Gibbs killed that woman in my house, and if I were to come back _now, _it would cause too many problems for the both of us. I don't want that. So I have to wait.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, the next chapter will be Gibbs POV on all the events happening so far. What do you all think so far? I really like Franks, which is why I made Jenny go to Mexico. If anyone is confused at all by anything, feel free to PM me, or leave a review, and I'll answer your questions. This will mostly be a Jibbs centric fic, but I'll try to put other pairings in here as well. Next chapter will be up in a few! Please REVIEW!!!**


	2. One Life to Live

**Disclaimer: ****I don't own any of the NCIS characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended. **

**A/N: ****I'm sorry this has taken so long for me to get out. I just never realized how difficult Gibbs is to write (kudos to everyone who's attempted it), and I've been trying to write Gibbs' reaction to Jenny's death. Gibbs' is always too quiet and withdrawn; it's tough to get into his head. I tried, but I'm not promising anything. **

* * *

_Gibbs' POV_

I've been in this position so many times before; you'd think that I would get the hang of how to deal. But it's never the same. The situation, I mean. I'm afraid that at the moment I can't think of anything more cathartic than boat, bourbon, and basement. That's always the same.

She's gone. My mind is mostly blank except for that fact (arguably, that could be because of the alcohol).

It's true, what they say. The first thing you think of is what you _should _have done, _should _have said. All the regrets that you have. But not denial, at least not for me. I know she's gone. No use pretending otherwise.

I take a gulp of the bourbon; the burning as it goes down my throat is welcome.

I start sanding my newest boat, letting my thoughts wander to Paris and the other missions we shared.

My thoughts wander to her, and I remember little facts about her.

Like how she preferred the night to the day. And how the moon made her face look.

How she loved the color orange. But not any orange. It couldn't be too red, or too yellow. It couldn't be too neon or too soft. It had to be a shade darker than the perfect orange.

I remembered how she loved to dive. She knew all the formations from watching diving on TV. And from swimming on her high school team. She was very graceful.

Just like when she danced.

She loved dancing in the rain. Not in jazz clubs or anything too fancy like that. But outside, in the rain with me.

And she didn't care if people were watching her. She could drown out any noise effortlessly.

She never got sick from dancing like that either.

These thoughts were all going through my head, and I barely registered the footsteps on the stairs.

Every fiber of my being wants it to be her. Thinks that if I will it, it'll be true.

But I know better than to expect the energetic, witty redhead on those stairs.

Besides, it's not the clicking of heels I hear.

DiNozzo.

He doesn't say anything, just comes and sits on the floor in front of my workbench; legs crossed, Indian style. His head drops in his hands and I hear the barely audible sigh.

"Hey."

He slowly raises his head, and looks at me, eyes swimming with questions. "Yeah?" He whispers hoarsely.

I look at him for another minute and a flash of something comes on his face. He's hiding something, then again, we all are.

"I know." I say heavily, handing him the bottle of bourbon.

Tony gulps some of the stuff down and barely cringes at the taste.

"This reminds me of…" He drifts off.

"It better not be a damn movie, Tony."

He looks up, eyes sad. "I was, uh, gonna say it reminds me of the assignment with Jeanne and how she…"He trailed off.

"I know." He didn't have to say anything.

"You do." He says quietly.

A small pause.

"Ziva stayed with Abby. She's pretty shaken up. They both are. And McGee checked up on Abby, too. I wouldn't put it past them to have a sleepover over there."

"Why aren't you with them?"

"They don't- I can't-"

"I get it."

"Boss…you got an extra-"

"Guest bedroom upstairs."

"Thanks, Boss. And Gibbs?"

I look up at him. He looks lost. Which, I have to admit, is how I feel now.

"I'm sorry."

I nod. No use stating the rules right now. In this situation.

"So am I, Tony, so am I."

And I was sorry.

Sorry for never taking a second chance. And it was too late now. Wasn't. It. Always.

* * *

**EXPLANATION: ****I wrote this chapter before I remembered that Tony knew Jenny was alive. But I came up with an explanation. Tony and Ziva knew that Jenny had been shot, and then that her "friends" took her away in the helicopter. They didn't know if those friends were able to save her or not. Since they haven't heard from her (and aren't going to), they are going to assume that she's gone. This makes Tony feel guiltier, and Gibbs is too sad to think about the fact that Tony's hiding something from him. Make sense? **

**A/N: ****I know that wasn't anything special, I really am better at writing Jenny and writing Franks. But I had to do **_**something **_**from Gibbs POV, and I thought I could throw in a Gibbs/Tony Father/Son moment. What did you think? Still interested? Got any more questions?**


	3. Lost

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the NCIS characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended. **

**Author's Note: Sorry, I haven't worked on this in a while; I've been busy. I hope you like this chapter, but you've been warned. I don't know when the next update is. But, I wanna say that I am really proud of this chapter. I like it. Keep on the look out, and please review! This is from Gibbs POV again, but it changes to Jen's…It's a very bond-y chapter with her and Franks.**

**Note: So, the Swine Flu bit…I had to do it. Even though the timeline would be wrong, but Bryn made me. I don't mean to…offend anyone by mentioning it…or y'know, get on their bad side or anything. I just used it as a bit of "real world connection". Oh, and please don't kill me if any of the Spanish is wrong. Just point it out please...**

* * *

_Gibbs General POV_

"I miss her too, Jethro." Ducky said as they sat on the basement steps, he sipping his scotch as Gibbs nursed his bourbon.

"Hm." A grunt was the only response he had been able to get out of him for hours.

"She died on her own terms."

"That supposed to make me feel better, Duck?" Gibbs asked, voice hoarse.

"No. I suppose not."

A sigh. By saying nothing, he managed to say everything.

"You know the old cliché that when someone is gone you remember all the good things? It's true."

"Regret part is true, too." Gibbs mentioned quietly.

"That it is."

After a long, drawn out silence, Gibbs asked, "What are you remembering?"

Ducky smiled softly. "Paris. Serbia. Moscow. New Years Eve, 1993."

Gibbs almost-smiled at the last event. "I remember that."

"Surprise really. You and Jennifer drank the Hudson's house dry with your silly drinking competition."

"She could hold her liquor." Gibbs recalled.

"She could."

Gibbs let out a shaky sigh; one that showed how really defeated he felt. He put the glass of bourbon, still half full (There was something seriously wrong when Gibbs _didn't _drink alcohol.), down on the counter, and went to sand his boat.

A lone tear slid down his face and on to the wood in front of him. He leaned forward, his forehead leaning on the rib of the boat. "She's gone, Duck." He said, voice cracking.

Ducky walked up to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know, Jethro, I know."

*****

_Jenny POV_

It's a brand new day. The 15th. I took the red Expo Marker in my hand and carefully slashed through that box on my calendar. It's been about a week since my lovely disappearance, the faked death. I suppressed a sigh as I got up from the small guest bed and went to the bathroom.

"Red, you up?" I heard Franks' voice from the front door.

"Yeah, I'm up." I said warily, emerging from the bathroom.

"Whoa, Red. You look like hell."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "That get you far with the ladies, Franks?" But he was right. My hair was knotted and messy, my eyes deep and hollow. I was tired. I hadn't had a good night's sleep since my disappearance, and it was taking its toll on me.

"Look, Red. I didn't mean any-"

"-I know." I said with a sigh. I stared at the ground in front of my feet before shaking my head and walking to the kitchen. I immediately started making coffee; black. That was how we both liked it.

"You should eat something, Jenny."

"Not hungry."

"Probie would never forgive me if you starved, Red." He said quietly, sitting on the stool in front of the kitchen counter.

My hand stopped in its track toward the instant coffee mix. I sat down on my side of the counter and shook my head, dropping my head in my hands. "You really think I'll see him again, Mike?"

"That's up to you."

"You know that's not true." I said bitterly.

"Really, Red? So who's it up to?"

My shoulders twitched in a slight shrug. "I don't know."

"Jenny, you are the Director of NCIS-"

"-I _was _the Director of NCIS-"

He continued as if he hadn't heard me, "-If _you _don't know what you're capable of…what you're capable of creating, and making happen…then no one is. Look at me, Jenny."

I slowly moved and looked up at him. My eyes were brimmed with tears. "Yeah?"

"Do you want to go back, and see him?"

There was no question to who the 'him' was pertaining. Jethro. "Yes. I do."

"There's your answer."

"But I can't. Not now."

"Red, I don't think that Probie is going anywhere."

"Thanks, Franks."

He nodded. "I was thinking of going into town today. Need to pick up a few things from town. You wanna come?"

I sucked in a deep breath. Maybe it'd be good for me to go out. "You know what? Yeah. I'd love to come. Just…" I looked down at myself, "…Let me clean up a bit."

Franks laughed. "You got half an hour, Red."

* * *

After a nice long and relaxing shower I felt better. I found a white sundress and brown lace-up sandals. I put on sunscreen and grabbed a straw hat and straw bag. Ready.

"There we go, Red. Perfect."

I managed a small laugh. "Thanks, Franks. But remember, no staring at my ass this time."

"I'm not makin' any promises."

"Of course not."

Mike took a minute to fill his flask and grab his wallet, and then he held the door open. "Town's not that far out. You mind walking?"

I shook my head. "Not at all. A bit of fresh air won't kill me."

Going outside really did make me feel better.

I felt the rays of sun reach out and touch my face…the salt water smell burned my nose, and I could hear the voices of vendors chattering in quick Spanish. Everything was in organized chaos, and I loved it all. It reminded me of the Navy Yard in some way. Everything was just so inviting.

I sat there, staring up at the sky, twirling around with my arms spread out.

Mike smiled as he watched me, glad that a smile was finally on my face.

We walked along the Mexico streets, seeing booths with brightly colored jewelry and men with every color _sombrero _you could imagine_. _A stray dog wandered through the streets, playing with the little kids that were smiling and laughing, running after it.

"Red? There's a shop up there," He said, gesturing up the street, "That sells household items. I'll be up there, you wander around a bit if you want."

I nodded at him. "I'll stay out here for a bit."

As Franks left to go to the store, I ran my hand over the dresses and jewelry in the booths, finally stopping at one that sold bathing suits, sundresses and sunglasses.

"They're beautiful." I breathed.

"Very. I just got them in this _mañana_." The woman said, Spanish accent heavy.

"How much?"

"Five dollars for the glasses. Ten for the dresses and the bathing suits." She said, struggling briefly with her English.

I picked up one of the green dresses and held it up against me. "What do you think?"

"_Sabes que? _It looks perfect!"

I smiled. "Really?"

"_Si._"

"I'll take it. _Gracias._"

"_De nada_. My name is Ana-Maria."

"I'm Jenny." I said as I took the money out of my purse and handed it to her. "You know Mike Franks?"

Ana-Maria laughed. "_Si. _He is a very funny man."

"I'm staying with him for a little while. He's a good friend."

"Oh, you are near then. Come by anytime. I am usually here, selling things."

"Maybe I could help you out sometimes, hm?"

"That would be very helpful. _Gracias._"

"No problem. I see Mike now, I'll talk to you later."

"_Adios_!"

* * *

"Ah…you meet Ana-Maria?"

"Yes, she's nice."

"Buy something?"

I held up the pretty and light, green dress.

"I like it." He said as he nodded to the stands. "Ana-Maria…she's a nice girl. Her parents are gone, though. Got caught by Border Patrol."

"That's sad…Poor Ana-Maria."

"Y'know, most people just call her Ana."

"So?" I said with a shrug.

Mike smiled. "Jethro always did like that about you."

"What?"

"That you never did what everyone else in the crowd did. That you respected people and their names."

"Names are important parts of who we are."

"They're important to you, aren't they?"

"Yeah, I guess they are. So, are you done?"

He held up his grocery bag. "Yep. I have everything I need. Do you wanna go back?"

I looked around at the various stands and playing kids. I shook my head. "I'll find my way back, but you go ahead and go home."

"You sure, Red?"

"Yeah, Mike. I'm sure."

* * *

As I walked down the various streets and alleys of the downtown area, I started wondering about how Jethro would find out about me. I mean, he thought I was dead, as did Tony and Ziva and Abby. Ducky probably did, too. Depending on whether or not he did my "autopsy" or not…But Jethro wouldn't find out. Ziva and Tony thought they owed me that much, that they wouldn't tell him.

Huh. I'd have to think about that one.

By the time I made it back to Mike's place I was back in my depression. I had thought about leaving and faking my death, and all the other regrets I had in my life.

This was a never-ending circle. A damn circle I couldn't get out of. I wasn't just upset now…I was angry. And you know what they say about angry redheads.

Mike seemed to sense my mood as I walked through the door. Either he got it then, or when I slammed the door shut.

"Jenny, you okay?" He had enough sense to call me by my name, though the nickname 'Red' had grown on me.

"Just fine." I said through gritted teeth.

I walked back to my room in a fury. He regretfully walked after me.

By then I was pacing around my room with rage.

"Jenny, do you want to talk?" He asked cautiously.

"Talk? Talk! Do I want to talk? Sure, I'll talk, but what use is it if no one's LISTENING?" I started on my rant. Franks waited. "I'm tired of it all. I'm sick and tired of running and hiding and getting mad and staying sad. I'm tired of starting to let it go and be happy and then I do something or see something that reminds me of him, and I fall into the same depression. I'm tired!" By then tears were streaming down my face. This was really starting to effect me.

Franks opened his arms and I stumbled into them.

"I know, Red. I know. It never really gets easier. It never does." He said as he held me.

"Then why do we do it?"

"To protect the people we love."

"Is that why you're here, in Mexico?"

"No…well, yes."

"And she doesn't know it?"

"Know it? No, I guess she doesn't. She's never tried to find me."

"You're a hard man to find, Franks." I said as I pulled back.

"Maybe that's what's going on with you and Probie."

I shook my head. "Gibbs would know where to find me if he really wanted to."

"Maybe _he _does, somewhere in his heart. But he doesn't want to admit it."

"I hope you're right."

* * *

_One Week Later_

"Hey, Franks?"

"Yeah, Red?" Mike asked from under the kitchen sink. He was finally fixing the leaking pipe I'd been complaining about.

"I was just at the Cantina talking to Ana-Maria. We were watching the news."

"And?"

"Do you think these outbreaks of Swine Flu are something to worry about?"

I heard Franks chuckle. "Nope. Government has nothing to talk about, so they're trying to start this 'Swine Flu' scare."

"What do you mean?"

"Katrina's over and done with…no other huge natural disasters to talk about…they need something new, something fresh. And sure, if people aren't careful this might turn into something serious. Just because you give it a fancy-shmancy 'H1N1' title doesn't mask what it truly is. The Flu. Which people die of all the time."

"Wow, you seem to have given this some thought." I said, leaning against the counter.

Mike shrugged as he came out. "Let's just say that I've had to calm a few hysterics. But they are NOT closing my second favorite bar because of a sickness named after the _pig._"

"Good answer, Franks."

"Hey, you mind going back into town and picking up some chicken?"

"Nope, I was going back to convey your response to Ana-Maria anyway."

"Yeah, quite the linguist, Red."

"Hey, I've picked up on a lot of Spanish while I've been here."

"Sure, Red."

* * *

_Gibbs General POV_

Tensions were still high in the Navy Yard. NCIS was mostly back in control, reined in by the new Director, Leon Vance. No one really trusted him yet. Not the NCIS agents…or the MTAC people…even the coffee guy and the janitor swore Vance gave them the "evil eye". He still hadn't "earned his stripes".

Tony and Ziva were sitting behind their desks, stony faced and motionless. Ziva's hands were folded in her lap as she stared at the blank computer screen; she hadn't bothered to turn it on. Tony's arms were crossed on the desk, his eyes never moved from their chosen spot on the wall.

McGee was down in the lab, comforting a still crying Abby, and Ducky was in the autopsy lab, staring into the dark distance. Gibbs was nowhere to be found.

Every now and then Ziva would open her mouth to say something, but snap it closed again.

Finally Tony stood. He looked at his desk and around at the offices and cubicles before taking his badge out of his pocket and removing his gun holster from his hip. Ziva could only stare at him in silence, the horror etched on her face. The words in her throat were frozen there.

He didn't look her in the eye. He just placed the badge on the desk, and started placing the gun down as well when a voice stopped him.

"This agency can't run with _two _agents gone, DiNozzo." The quiet, _defeated _voice of their Boss almost-whispered.

"There's no point, Boss." Tony said without turning to look at Gibbs.

"There never seems to be, does there, Tony? But there is. There's always a point."

"Then what is it?" He asked, whirling around, anger on his face.

"I don't know. I'm hoping to find out in Mexico."

Bam. Bombshell. _That _shut him up.

"He said two _agents._" Ziva said quietly, registering the words in her mind. "You were not talking about Jenny."

"Jenny hasn't been an agent in years." Gibbs _did _whisper this time. He nodded to his desk. In the shadows his gun and badge were sitting almost ominously. "This Agency needs _you_, Tony. Don't bail out on it now."

"Like _you're _doing?" Tony asked, venom creeping into his voice.

"I'm not doing anything, DiNozzo. Just looking for answers. And they happen to be waiting for me at the airport. Ducky and Abby already know. I'm sure that Abby is telling McGee all about it as we speak."

"Will you be back?" Ziva asked quietly, like a little child.

"Depends on what answers I get, Ziva." He crossed the room and kissed her cheek. "Take care of yourself."

Ziva looked up at him desperately. She grabbed his arm. "Gibbs…don't leave. Don't go."

Gibbs smiled sadly. "I have to, Ziva. It'll be better this way."

She stumbled toward Tony, lost in her child like daze. "You…you will not go, will you?" She asked, voice quiet, eyes wide.

He wrapped his arms around her. "I'm not leaving, Zi. I won't leave." He didn't even look back at Gibbs as the he walked to the elevator.

"Tony…I…she's gone, isn't she?"

Tony shook his head. "It's all we can do to pray."

"I am tired, Tony."

Tony nodded. "Me too, Zi. Me too. C'mon. Let's go to my house and watch a movie…" He trailed off dejectedly.

A tear slipped down Ziva's face. "Yes. A movie."

* * *

Gibbs drove back to his house where he saw Ducky's car parked in his driveway. Ducky was still sitting inside of it, in the driver's seat, staring at the house. Gibbs knew his suitcase was already packed and in the trunk.

He parked his car in the garage and locked it, and then he sat in the passenger's seat of the car. "I'm doing the right thing, right Duck?" He asked as the car moved backwards.

Ducky sat quiet before saying, "You're doing what _you _think is best. I'll leave you to decide if it's the right thing or not."

"Damn Duck, I really screwed up, didn't I?"

"It isn't you, Jethro. Simply the circumstances." He said, putting an accented emphasis on the last word.

"Sounds like a bad break up line to me, Ducky."

"Yes, well..."

"I just want answers, Duck."

"My dear man," Ducky said as he looked at Gibbs, "That's what we all want."

* * *

**Author's Note: Oooh, now I'm getting all excited writing this; I want to keep writing more. Because of my hectic writing schedule though, and the fact that I haven't been able to get to a computer (with Internet) for a while makes the date for the next update unknown. I'll try my hardest to have it up fast. Please, leave a review. I don't use a beta; so if you find any mistakes, please tell me. This is definitely my favorite chapter though. Thanks! Hope you liked it!**


	4. As the World Turns

_**Disclaimer:** __I don't own any of the NCIS characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended. _

_**Author's Note: **__I know that I haven't updated this story in a while. Truth is, I wrote it, but then I had some computer troubles and school started up…It's here now. There probably will be more chapters later, though I don't know when. Review! _

_**Author's Note 2: **__Many thanks to my beta _Aserene _for helping me smooth out the kinks in this story, and another thanks to _Bryn Elizabeth_, without whom the Spanish would be crap. _

* * *

It seemed that as soon as he stepped foot on the warm Mexico sand the sun reached out its rays in welcome. Its warmth touched him and gave him an odd sense of peace. He paid the cabbie and retrieved his bags. There were only two of them; he traveled lightly. The cabbie had dropped him off a few blocks away from the stretch of beach where Mike's little hut was. Gibbs walked down the familiar boardwalk, trying to make sense of everything that'd happened around him. But it didn't make any sense. Jenny being dead didn't make any sense.

"_Señor _Gibbs! Is that you?" A young Mexican woman wearing a bathing suit and grass skirt asked in surprise.

"Lola! _Como estas_?" He asked hugging her briefly.

"_Muy bueno_," she replied with a smile, "you remember." Her accent was thick.

"Of course I remember. How's your sister? Your parents?"

"Oh, Mari is fine. And my parents opened up a store down town."

"Great, great. Tell me, is Mike around?"

"_Si_. I've heard there was some drama near his little hut." She replied, rolling her 'R's.

"Really? Leave it up to Mike."

Lola laughed. "Very nice to see you again, Gibbs. But I must go. I will see you later?"

"I'm sure we'll be stopping by the Cantina soon enough."

Lola laughed again. "_Yo no se_, Gibbs. _Señor _Franks has not been down at La Cantina much."

"Huh." Must be some woman if Franks wasn't drinking.

"_Adios_."

"Bye, Lola."

Drama, huh?

He shook his head, clearing it, and made his way to Mike's hut. The familiarity of the landscape was welcoming, but he came to Mexico to get away from the drama. Not for more. If he only knew what he was getting himself into.

* * *

"Franks, I'm gonna go into town today." I said early on morning. It'd been maybe a week since I met Ana Maria, and we'd become good friends. She even let me help out at the stand.

"Alright, Red. I'll be down at the Cantina later."

"Meet you there?"

"Alright, around noon then."

"Bye."

10 years ago if you asked me where I'd be in the future you would've gotten a variety of responses. Mexico, however, probably wouldn't be mentioned in any of them.

But that's the miracle of the human race, the ability to adapt.

See, I had a nice life in Mexico, even though it was far from my ideal life. Some days I went downtown and helped Ana Maria out with her stand, other days Lola offered me a few hours on the job being a Cantina waitress. The pay wasn't amazing, but it was enough to help pay for groceries and clothes.

I was building up my life again, hoping to start something new. And that meant leaving behind everything and everyone from before. That in and of itself was hard.

* * *

Y'know, having Red around wasn't so bad after all. The place sure was neater. I had to hand it to her though; it took a lot to just disappear from the face of the Earth. She was handling it quite well. But I swear, I still hear her crying in her room some nights when she thinks I'm asleep.

So, Red was going to work the stand with Ana today, and I decided to do some work around the house while I had free time. The shingles on the roof were loose and the shutter on one of the windows was about to come off. Jenny had been complaining about them all week, and it was getting annoying.

There I was, perched on the edge of the roof with nails in my mouth and a hammer in my hand. Remind me never to do that again.

"Wow. Look at that. Mike Franks actually doing work."

Crap. I stumbled on the roof and managed to jump down without breaking anything and without swallowing a nail.

"Probie." I greeted, willing my face to take on the blank look I'd perfected over the years.

"You seem surprised?"

"Nah, this is just me recovering from almost swallowing a nail. Could've warned me, Probie."

"Everything alright here? Lola mentioned some drama…"

I shrugged indifferently. "Lola thinks that everything is drama."

"Mike. Drama with you usually involves women. Unless there's something you wanna tell me…"

I shrugged and grabbed the hammer and nails, getting ready to climb back up. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

Gibbs said nothing.

"So, Probie, what brings you to Mexico?" I asked, pronouncing the last word like the locals.

And then I saw it. In the briefest of moments his face fell, eyes grew dark, just like when he was really upset. He pulled it together though, but not before murmuring, "She's gone."

I waited.

"I couldn't be there anymore." He admitted.

"You ran." I said, almost accusingly.

He shook his head and turned to the ocean, squinting up at the sun. "I need answers, Mike."

"And you think this is the place to get them?"

Gibbs shrugged. "I'm going to drop my things in the guest room."

I knew I could protest. Stop him from going into the house. But not only wouldn't it work, it would raise more questions than I had the patience to answer. He would eventually go in; me interfering wouldn't make a difference. The two of them would find each other, even in a place like Mexico.

Gibbs shook his head as he grabbed his bags and walked up toward the hut. Mike was acting weirder than he remembered. Was it just him, or was Mike hiding something?

It didn't take much for him to realize what was going on. It took even less for his temper to flare up.

* * *

He was an Agent, for crying out loud! A Special Agent. The house was neat. Clean. Mike was fixing the roof. Dishes were in the sink, dishes for two. Meaning someone had to be doing the cooking, and it sure as hell wasn't Mike. The whole damn house smelled like lavender.

"Mike." He said in a warning tone, and it was like nothing he'd heard coming from Gibbs before. A low growl was in his throat and he turned to Mike, white anger in his eyes. "Explain."

Mike was standing behind him in the doorway, keeping his face blank again. "There isn't much to explain, Probie."

"Not much to explain?!? She was DEAD, Mike. Tony and Ziva - Tony and Ziva knew. Ducky did the autopsy! He knew, too." He was almost yelling.

"Now Probie. Ducky wouldn't have done the autopsy on account of some rule somewhere."

"_You_ knew." The anger was rising. "Where is she?"

"You should calm down and wait for her to come home -"

"Mike!"

Mike sighed. He was gonna cause a scene… "Downtown. Ana Maria's stand." He scoffed.

He pushed past Mike in a hurry and was off.

* * *

A thousand questions were flashing through his head, each one making him angrier than the last. How was she alive? Why was she here? How the hell did Ziva and Tony know, and how did he miss it? Was she okay? Was she hurt? Did they hurt her? And the most haunting one was probably, why did she go to Mike instead of him?

He saw her at the stand, just like he remembered her. Sure, she seemed older, there were lines around her eyes, and her hair was a bit longer. Her face was tanner, her hair redder, from the sun. She was laughing. He couldn't remember the last time he saw that.

The pretty and young Hispanic woman next to her just finished telling her something, and she was laughing. Smiling. And his anger melted away.

* * *

Her Agent sense kicked in as she felt someone's eyes on her. She was being watched.

Now, being a former Director, and being a woman, she'd had a lot of gazes on her, some good, some not so great. She recognized this gaze. It was warm. Familiar.

"Ana…I have to go." She said abruptly, dropping the scarf she was holding. She stumbled toward him and he walked to her. On his face was such a surprised, caring look…she missed it.

She was walking toward him and her eyes had a surprised and amazed look in them. Tears were slowly making their way down her face. They met. He hugged her. Just to convince himself she was real. And she melted into his arms, just like before.

"Jen."

Somewhere in the embrace she realized that this wasn't supposed to happen. She pulled back and an angry mask settled on her face. "You. You burned my house down." She said as she hit his chest.

"You're angry?" He asked incredulously.

"My house is gone!"

Of all the things she could've said, she was worried about her house. "You have NO right to be mad!"

"And YOU do?"

"Yes! And I'll tell you why!"

Jenny frowned. She realized his arms were still halfway around her, and she pulled back. "Enlighten me, oh great one." The sarcasm was dripping in her voice.

"You were DEAD, Jenny! No warning, no nothing! And now I find out that you're _here_ and _alive_ and you went to _Mike_ for help! And now I find out that _Tony_ and _Ziva_ knew and that I missed all the signs completely. So yes, I DO have a right to be mad!"

Mike came up from the beach and stepped between them. "I turn away for two seconds and already you two are jumping down each other's throats!"

"Franks, why the hell is _he_ here?"

"Well, Red. I can't control where he goes and what he does. That's up to him. Now, both of you, march! You're making a scene."

* * *

He sent Jenny into her room and Gibbs sat on the steps in front of the house, beer in hand. He still looked mad.

Mike decided to talk to Jenny first. She wasn't holding any dangerous objects in her hand.

"Now, Red, I'm usually the last one to start playing cop between people, but since both of you have decided to grace me with your presences, it's worth a shot. Are you going to tell me why you're mad at him? I thought you liked him."

She looked up at him, eyes wet with angry tears. "I did! I do! But…I, I moved on. Started over. I died for heaven's sake!" Her tears started falling. "I'm dead to the world, Mike. To his world. I gave up my old life. And he can't be in both of them."

"Oh."

"That's all you have to say?" She asked, sniffing.

"I understand." He said with a shrug.

"You're gonna go talk to him, aren't you?"

"I can't have him staying here if I don't."

* * *

"Hey."

"Franks." He was sitting on the steps, beer dangling from his hand. His elbows were on his knees, and he was looking out at the ocean.

"You don't sound too happy to see me."

"You didn't exactly _tell_ me Jenny was alive."

"She asked me not to."

Gibbs shook his head. "It was a mistake coming here. She's made her choice, made up her mind. She doesn't want me here."

Mike dropped down next to him. "Yeah, that explains all the crying."

A beat skipped between them. "What?"

"The crying. Swear she'll flood the beach."

Gibbs shook his head and squinted at the water. "Jen doesn't cry." His Jenny didn't cry.

"Huh. Must've confused her with the red head living in my guest room."

Gibbs grew quiet after that. "Jenny…" He whispered, trailing off. "I'm going to go talk to her."

"It's been hard on her, Probie."

* * *

Gibbs walked into Mike's house and put the beer on the table by the door. He never was good at talking. 3 Three wives were proof of that. However, it was too late to turn back now.

She was sitting on the bed, wiping tears away furiously. He knew that she knew he was there. Wordlessly he sat down next to her, wrapping his arms around her. She turned in his arms and buried her head in his chest.

"You left, Jen. And they told me you were dead. Ducky didn't do the autopsy…he thought you were gone, too. I just want answers."

"I had to leave. I called a friend," she mumbled against him, finally starting to explain everything, "he owed me a favor, so he got his helicopter and dropped me off here."

"There were still people who wanted you dead."

"Mike didn't know if they were gone yet, so he waited, going along with the 'dead' thing. He came back later."

"I took care of her." Gibbs whispered in her ear.

She pressed closer to him. "Thank you." He'd avenged her so-called death. No one had ever done something like that before. Technically speaking…she'd never died before, but that was beside the point.

"What are we going to do now?" He asked against her hair.

She pulled away from him and lay back on the bed. She took his hand and pulled him back with her. "Sleep." And the way she said it suggested that she hadn't had a good nights sleep in a while. "We'll…we'll figure it out tomorrow."

He wrapped his arms around her from behind. "Together. Sounds good."

It felt good, to be in his arms again. She turned toward him and buried her head in his neck. "I missed you, Jethro."

"I missed you too, Jen. Promise not to fake-die again, okay?"

"Promise."

* * *

Franks decided to wait outside while the two talked. Hopefully some light could be shed on the current situation. But, when he didn't hear anything he started to worry. Maybe they'd already killed each other.

He walked into the house and peaked inside Jenny's room. And there they were. She was in his arms, face pressed into his chest. Their chests rose and fell at the same time, and whenever Jenny would so much as whimper, he'd hold her closer. It was kinda cute, in a slightly sickening way. But at least they were back together. Balance was restored in Mexico again, but what about the other side of the world? How would everything work out in Washington? Questions for another day…He thought. He had a Cantina to get to.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Mind leaving a review?


	5. The Young and the Restless

Disclaimer: I still don't own any of the NCIS characters, places, themes, etc.

Author's Note: I know, I know, I am, quite possibly, the worst updater in the history of fanfic. I apologize. Good news for you though, I have this chapter, AND the next chapter written and ready to type. Hopefully you can forgive me. Enjoy, and realize, I am completely going with the flow. And I decided to add a bit Mike/Jenny bonding. This is unbetaed; all mistakes are mine.

* * *

_She heard the gunshots. Her gut told her that one of those bullets would hit her before it actually did. So she killed them. Franks helped, of course. Most of them were dead when she started to feel weak. Her vision was swimming and her legs gave way. She tried to keep a grip on reality, she really did. She clutched at it with desperate hands, needing to stay alive for just a little longer. _

_"Jenny!" Franks. "Dammit, Jenny, you can't die on me now. Listen to me. I hear sirens. Cars. That means NCIS." _

_"Mike." She held on to his hand, squeezed it a tiny bit. "They can't - they-"_

_"I know, Jen, I know. I have to go. You still have that number?" _

_A painful nod. _

_"You know what to do. I'll meet you back in Mexico, as soon as I get things settled, alright?" _

_Another nod. _

_"Just hold on for me, can you do that?" _

_"Yeah." _

_"Good. Good girl." _

_He was reluctant to leave her like that, hurt and alone. _

_"Mike." A tone full of warning._

_"Jenny?" A confused glance back. _

_"Mike!" _

_BANG! _

_"JENNY!"_

"Jenny. Jenny, wake up!" A nightmare. She was having a nightmare.

She awoke with a scream and shied away from Gibbs, still confused in her dream-like state.

"Red?" Mike's voice came from the door; he was half awake and dressed in his old plaid robe. The familiarity and readiness with which he came confirmed Gibbs' suspicions. This happened regularly.

"Jenny. Jenny," Mike said gently (an oxymoron if he ever saw one). He ignored Gibbs as he sat on the edge of the bed and sat the wild-eyed Jenny up. She fell into his arms and he held her as she cried.

"Same dream?" Mike asked quietly.

Gibbs saw her nod.

"Same ending?" His tone suggested the answer.

Another nod. "Just like it happened, until the end. I always end up _dead_." She spat the last word out, tired of feeling as hopeless as she felt. She pulled away from Mike and stood, heading toward the restroom. Her head was throbbing already.

"What was that all about?" Gibbs asked, voice lowered and eyebrows knitted together with worry.

"The day it all happened."

"That was _at least_ 3 weeks ago."

"And she's had nightmares ever since. Every other night." Mike answered gruffly. He didn't like seeing her like that either.

"She trusts you." Was there a hint of jealousy in his voice?

"Yes."

Gibbs sighed and rubbed a hand over his cheek. "I'm gonna go talk to her."

"I'll be in my room if she needs me."

*****

Sweat plastered her hair to her face and her eyes were red and puffy. Her hands were shaking slightly and she looked pale. Jenny leaned over the edge of the skink and splashed water on her face.

"Are you okay?"

She jumped back in surprise, only to be steadied by Gibbs. "Damn, Jethro. You scared me."

Jenny didn't get scared. He let her go and she leaned back against the door, head leaned back, eyes closed. A few tears escaped.

"Jen."

"Jethro, don't."

"Just tell me what I can do, Jen…" His voice was low, almost pleading.

She shook her head, eyes still closed. "Nothing. There's nothing to be done." She sounded so defeated.

He pulled her into his arms, to her surprise. She relaxed, leaning her head against his chest. She breathed with him, claming her still-racing heart. "I'm tired of this."

"I know."

"I want everything to go back to normal."

"I know."

He pulled her back to the bedroom and lay down with her. "I'm sorry, Jenny."

"So am I."

Rule broken.

More than one rule broken.

She fell back into a fitful sleep, muttering about killing someone and calling Jethro's name every now and then. She called for Mike, too.

A/N: I know this was a pretty short chapter, and it wasn't anything special, but I did like this ending point. Hopefully next chapter will be up soon enough. Review?


	6. Guiding Light

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the NCIS characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended.

**Author's Note:** Well, here it is, chapter 6. Many thanks go out to _A'serene _for being my beta for this one -- I appreciate it. I'm rather happy with this chapter, and I've already written most of the next chapter; I can't make any promises for when you'll be seeing that one, though. Thanks to everybody who's read and reviewed the story so far, it means a lot.

Oh, and there is a tiny bit of Spanish in here as well. It's not much; I take French and just barely get by with my Spanish, but if you need a translation just ask in a review and I'll be happy to answer.

**To jibbsfan: **Hahaha, I was waiting for someone to pick up on the soap opera chapter names (and I chose Lost simply because it was a drama that was nearing soap opera). Yes, they are on purpose. I chose to do them simply because of the amount of drama that's going on in the story. For each chapter I try to find a soap opera title that either gets the jist of the chapter, or of the emotions in the chapter. Hopefully the chapters' titles will continue to make sense...I don't know what I'll do once I run out of soaps to use.

* * *

Mike Franks awoke to the sound of muffled shouting and breaking plates. His former agent senses were sending a red flag to his brain; someone was in danger, though he knew otherwise. THEY were at it again. Three days, it'd been three days, since Gibbs came to Mexico, and every morning was the same. Screaming, shouting, accusations.

Franks grabbed the robe that hung on the back of his door and pulled it on, walking half-asleep to the kitchen. He felt a headache coming on.

"What the hell is going on here?" He shouted, making his presence known. "Why on earth are you two yelling at 0630 in the morning?"

Gibbs and Jenny barely flinched at his yelling. Instead they glared daggers at each other. A broken plate lay on the floor, centimeters to the right of where Gibbs' head was.

"I'll buy you a new one," Jenny said as she saw him eye the plate. She chose to ignore them both and instead walked over to the wall, throwing the broken pieces of glass violently into the trashcan.

"What is it today?" Franks asked, realizing that any hopes he had of more sleep were silently slipping away. Instead he chose to make himself coffee…and maybe go to the Cantina later on.

"Jenny is being unreasonable."

"Jethro is being unreasonable." They said it in unison.

Franks bit back a laugh. "You two have been jumping down each others' throats ever since he-" he jerked his thumb at Gibbs, "-got here."

Jenny straightened up and leaned back against the counter. She looked tired, worn out. She looked like she hadn't been sleeping.

"Red. Probie. Get out of here," Mike said, not unkindly. "Get some air. Go to the city. Just get out of my damn hut."

"He's right." Jenny allowed.

Gibbs grunted a response.

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Jethro, would you like to accompany me for an outing to the city?" She asked sarcastically. "_That _is called using your words."

"_Fine, _Jen. I'd _love _to accompany you."

Franks yawned as he sat down at the table and grabbed a newspaper with his coffee. "See? Problem solved. Pick up groceries on the way."

* * *

She was unusually quiet as they walked towards the town.

"This still about this morning?" Gibbs asked quietly, squinting at the sun in the horizon.

Jenny shook her head, "No."

He waited.

"I…what are we going to do now?" It was a question she seemed to ask and imply often.

It was his turn to shake his head. "I don't know, Jen. I don't know."

She leaned towards him and he put an arm around her waist. "I died." She said matter-of-factly. "I can't come back."

"We'll figure it out."

She continued as if she hadn't heard him, "You _have _to go back." She was voicing an option they were both thinking about -- starting a new life there, in Mexico.

"I just wanna go home." She said and ignored how weak she sounded.

He squeezed her shoulder. A silent promise of sorts. She was used to one-sided conversations.

"Look. A grocery store, next to a coffee shop. Is it fate?" She said, trying to lighten the mood.

Jethro smiled. "I'll buy."

* * *

"Jethro?"

"Yeah, Jen?"

"Tony and Ziva. They're okay, right?" She felt oddly selfish, thinking about herself when she had other _family _to worry about.

He took a long swig of coffee, contemplating an answer. "They blame themselves. All thought you were dead."

"And…" She hesitated, "And you?" Did _he _blame himself?

"Of course I did. Blamed myself, too. After all we've been through…couldn't stand losing you like that."

She reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly. It was a comfort to them both.

"I can't get out of this one, can I?"

He shook his head, "It's not gonna be easy."

They sat in silence, hands still intertwined.

"Come on," she said, once their cups were empty. "Let's get groceries and then go to town. I want you to meet someone."

* * *

"_Hola_ Jenny, _como estas_?"

"_Muy bien_, Ana. I have someone I want you to meet." She was juggling a grocery bag on her hip as she pulled Jethro by the hand.

Ana smiled knowingly. "_Hola_. I am Ana-Maria."

"_Hola_," Gibbs replied, pulling his hand out of Jenny's grasp to shake Ana's. "Gibbs." He said as an introduction.

"Ana-Maria has a stand here. She let's me help out."

"_Si_. Oh, Jenny, I had a few customers asking for you." Her accent was thick.

"Oh really?" Jenny replied, eyebrow raised.

Ana grinned. "Senor Mendez asked me, '_donde estas la bella pelirroja_?'."

Jenny let out a laugh. "Tell him not to worry, I'll be back. I just need a few days to get things straightened out. Ana, we really need to go back, bye!"

"Nice to meet you, _Senor_ Gibbs."

"Nice to meet you too, Ana."

Gibbs took the bag from Jenny and balanced it with the one he was already holding.

"Chauvinist." She said, though she made no move to take the bag back.

"Nice girl."

"Ana kept me sane those first few weeks."

He let this sink in before clearing his throat and saying, "Who is this _Senor Mendez _asking about my redhead?"

Jenny shot him an amused look. "_Your _redhead? Why, Jethro, do I sense jealousy there?" Since when had he learned Spanish, anyway?

Gibbs chuckled. "Nah, he doesn't stand a chance."

She grinned back. "No, no he doesn't."

* * *

It was a quiet night on the Mexico beach. Mike was lounging in a hammock nearby, and Jenny and Gibbs were sitting on a blanket, downing beers and staring at the sky.

"Jen."

"Hmmm?" She answered lazily, her eyes closed and her head on Gibbs' lap.

"In your house…on your desk-" he felt her stiffen; she knew, but he had to ask anyway, "-there was a-"

"I know." She opened her eyes and turned to her side to look at the ocean. The letter.

He ran his hands through her hair, remembering her calligraphic words _Dear Jethro, _at the top of the page. Teasing him. Haunting him. Yet he wasn't going to push her for an answer.

"I…I had a feeling things weren't going to end up well. I…there were things I wanted to say, and I was an idiot not saying them before. But I didn't know where to start…or how to say what I wanted to say…so I didn't." She trailed off. "I'm not making much sense am I?"

He touched her cheek gently. He understood.

A tear slipped down her cheek and he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. She closed her eyes and a few more slipped out.

"Jethro, even if I would go back…where would I go? What would I do?" She sat up and drew her knees to her chest. "The agency won't take me back. Not after the _La Granouille _case. I have no home-" she shot him an accusing look, "and…I…"

"You need to talk about this." It was a statement, based on an observation. She was worried.

She nodded.

"Alright. Okay. Tomorrow then. We'll talk about it all tomorrow."

She yawned and stood up. Holding a hand out, she pulled him up and glanced at Franks, who was asleep. "Let's leave him here." She shook out the blanket they were sitting on a second ago and draped it over him. "Come on."

He pulled her to his side and kissed her head. "Glad you're alive, Jen."

"Glad you came after me."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Well, that's that. Leave a review?


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